


lilywhite

by thespideyboy



Series: my spideypool collection [10]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Blink and you'll miss it, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Happy times, Idiots in Love, M/M, Some angst, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug, both of them are very much smitten and very much in love, lovesick rambling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 05:39:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19144660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thespideyboy/pseuds/thespideyboy
Summary: But right now they’re Peter Parker and Wade Wilson, a tired graduate student and a hulk of a man with an unfortunate skin condition, and they draw no more attention than anyone else on these streets, the ones they protect on a nightly basis. Though not a new experience, it’s refreshing to the both of them, energizing in the way that saving the world won’t ever be.





	lilywhite

The air is too hot, when Wade first sees him- crested eyes and a fitted boatneck, freckled cheeks and a lazy grin. Ribbonning wind tousles through his mop of hair, keeps the chestnut strands away from the smooth plane of his sweat-slicked forehead.

His environment estranges him, an edgy, dark barrier of steel buildings and cemented walkways that’s ultimately thwarted by the sweep of his delicate shoulders, the uncontested balance of his bare neck. Though he escapes the sun’s oppressive sheet of heat, he is brilliant beneath the manufactured shade of a scaffold, an inexorable beacon hidden deep within the belly of this concrete forest.

He’s beautiful, this man. Even surrounded by a tank of bleak construction and new-age complexes, he glimmers like an emerald, holds so perfectly _real_ against the blur of the ever-changing city, which seems to flicker and falter like a mirage around his defined silhouette.

Across a column of traffic, both human and not, Wade is left slack-jawed, halted in place, a dry mouth and a swallow caught halfway down rendering him momentarily useless. Those eyes, dark and intense even from a distance, never cease to shock each one of Wade’s cells, never cease to make a hostage of his attention and a servant of his free will.

Wade drifts through the line of bustling pedestrians, skips across the busy street with little regard for the irate drivers that squawk at his surly motions from behind their closed windows. Worry does not arise with their hapless threats- Wade is faster and smarter and larger, trained and unforgivably instinctive, a beast of a predator at the worst of times and a hellbent monster at the best. His concern lies with the lithe figure propped against the faded brick of a looming residential building, his scrambled thoughts and corrupted whims aligned all towards the other’s amused gaze and carefree posture.

Peter is safe on his own, a man more capable than Wade could ever hope to be, but even then, he’s Wade’s top priority. He’s been Wade’s top priority for as long as they’ve known each other, and he’ll remain as such until they know each other no longer.

Wade thinks he should evaluate the depth of the devotion he feels so powerfully for this man, this lovely gift of an existence, but he’s never been one for introspection, especially not when Peter stands so close, when the edge of his presence only barely mingle with that of Wade’s.

It’s love, this feeling that douses Wade like gasoline, that sets his nerves alight and his heart into a fit. Watching Peter, who’s a single thimble of gold beneath the milling tide of a polluted river, Wade doesn’t mind feeling this, doesn’t experience fear like he once had, like he thinks he probably should.

This is Peter. This is _different._

He’s lean and gorgeous, an idol amongst the clueless hordes of people pushing past, the ignorant passersby that don’t pause to admire what he has to offer. If Wade weren’t so in love with the idea of having this boy all to himself, claiming him for his own without reason to share, he’d be fuming at  the way the world turns its back to the younger man, his guns raised and barrels smoking.

“Pete,” He breathes once he’s finally close enough, once he can distinguish each individual freckle and sunspot dotting the hill of his cheeks. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

Peter shakes his head, the corners of his mouth tugging up in a lopsided grin- youth shines through his teeth when he smiles like this, the stressed set of his brow relaxing into something carefree, something easy. “Let me guess-” His eyes drop down to Wade’s waist, and then rise like smoke along his body, “Bus of school kids stuck in a tree? Or- no, no, did you find another abandoned bag of takeout in _desperate_ need of a home? Because I totally understand. Y’know, if that’s the case.”

A large man with an ill-fitting coat shoulders Wade aside with a halfhearted grunt, continues on his way without so much as an apology. By the look in his eye, Wade is about to do something brash, so Peter continues, leans in until their chests are only an inch apart. “Emergencies call for urgencies, ‘pool. I got it, I got it.” His eyes darken, his voice lowers, “Guess you just got _no time left_ for your friendly neighborhood spider, hm?”

“ _My_ friendly neighborhood spider?” Wade rumbles, resisting the urge to crowd in further, close the gap. He’s stuck on the valley of the other’s shirt, the way the maroon fabric stretches tight across lean shoulders, exposes the hard expanse of endless collarbones, the graceful bow of a delicate throat.

Peter only hums, cocks his head, and reaches for Wade’s hand with his own, winding their fingers together. The contact is easy, present in a way that Wade _should_ be used to by now, conditioned to expect and embrace, but it sends his stomach fluttering nonetheless.

It’s no surprise, though; touching Peter is always like the first time, exhilarating and unexpected, new and curious and exciting.

Wade wants more, always wants more when it comes to Peter- Wade wants _everything,_ when it comes to Peter.

“All yours, big guy.” Peter sighs. He lowers his chin shyly, gazing up through fanned eyelashes.

Temptation on a plate, wrapped in a bow and guarded by a silver dome, Peter is all Wade has ever wanted, all he wants and all he’ll ever wants. It takes Wade every last drop of control not to allow his hungry brain free reign over his itching limbs. Peter looks up at him, plush lip captured by straight teeth, heart gravitating towards Wade’s like it’s all he wants, though- like he’d let Wade do whatever he pleases, ravage every mile of skin, bite and suckle every single inch.

And yet, while they’re not in their suits, they’ve very much in public. While Peter Parker and Wade Wilson have little to hide from the public eye, Wade isn’t entirely sure he’ll have the self control to stop himself at just a kiss, just a single point of contact. In fact, he’s pretty certain that any leniency on his less-than-pure thoughts would result in whisking the other into a quiet alley and having his wicked way with him, especially when Peter shimmers like a daydream, the sheer brilliance of his being rolling off his skin in rosy waves.

It’s difficult, but Wade maintains his distance. They have things to be and places to do- though Wade can’t find it in himself to remember exactly what those things entailed, what those places might possibly be, he’s pretty sure that they’re meeting for a reason. Date night, maybe, something peaceful and mundane, something much slower-paced than their average night out.

Peter, the other half to Wade’s jagged little heart, fills in Wade’s blanks without being asked- he knows well enough now, that Wade can be scrambled, that he’s forgetful and muddled some days, anxious and high-strung on others. “You ready to check the first place out? It’s just a couple blocks down, but we’ve got a few of minutes before we’re due to meet the realtor, so.”

Wade’s heart stutters, a brief ordeal that he can feel in both the pit of his gut and the back of his throat, because- _oh, it’s apartment shopping, they’re apartment shopping_ ** _together_ **_, they’re moving towards the future, towards something more permanent and something even more serious than what they already have and-_

Slender fingers tighten around a scarred hand, massage the rough skin gently, reassuringly. Dark eyes are steady on Wade’s lighter ones.

The fumble is over before starts, the panic threatening to flood rational thought drains out and away, leaves a glossy picture of the two of them together, _living together, happy together,_ at the forefront of Wade’s mind. Beyond the mental image, Peter’s hold is careful and consistent- he’s watching for a reaction, waiting for Wade to liberate his mind from its gnarled thoughts and return to earth.

Wade smiles, then, a laborious action that’s founded by exhaustion and nerves, by sincerity and vulnerability. “Ready whenever you are, sweetcheeks.” His voice isn’t as husky as it was, and while it’s missing some of the tangled substance that usually underlines his affect, Peter only smiles in return, his shoulders easing.

“Weren’t you the one keeping me waiting? Y’know, if I recall correctly, _I’ve_ been here for-”

“There was a gaggle of elderly ladies in need of my help, _excuse you-”_

“Mm-hm.”

“An insurance broker with a busted calculator was desperate for my-”

“Sounds legit, yup. _Completely legit_. Those poor insurance brokers.”

“A whole _stadium_ of hungry insurance-broker-old-ladies with _haywire supercomputers_ were _begging_ -”

“Thank the lord you were there to help them, then, yeah?” Peter scratches the back of his head, the hand not still occupied by Wade’s abiding at the base of his neck. He swoons, “My hero.”

“I’m glad you’re finally recognizing me as such, Spidey.” Wade approves, the final remaining ounces of nervousness slowly sapping from his system. “Must suck, being a _vigilante_ and all.” They’re off to the side, away from the stream of traffic the sidewalk has to offer, but the occasional pedestrian shoots Wade a look of caution, wary daggers that scrape at his back, tug at his scarred scalp. With Peter here, he doesn’t have much trouble ignoring them. “ _#CantRelate, motherfucker.”_

Peter’s responding scoff is stocked with nothing less than endearment, and he’s sidling forwards to meet Wade’s mouth with a contented smile. “You’re terrible.”

“The worst. Absolute scum’a the earth, babycakes. You know how it is.”

“What am I gonna do with you, hm?”

“Move in with me, apparently,” Wade concludes, and then he brings his lips to Peter’s ear, their rough texture dragging against the smooth shell of cartilage when he continues. His voice drops to a throaty whisper, “Honestly, not your smartest idea, bio-boy. Gotta stop your ass-brain from making decisions for your brain-brain, but- _hey, I’m not complaining.”_

Peter shivers.

Wade has to remind himself that they’re in public, that _maybe this isn’t entirely appropriate_ , but he nuzzles closer anyways, the bridge of his nose tracing the edge of Peter’s hairline, “When it’s this fine piece of ass I’m waking up to every morning? I mean, I’m so off the wall that there might as well never have been a damn wall in the first place, but even _I’m_ not crazy enough to say no to shovelin’ all’a our junk together in a shower-stall of a shared space, mister.”

A hand travels down Peter’s back, along his spine and towards the swell above his thighs, but it’s hastily swatted away before it has the chance to reach its destination. “ _Wade.”_ He scolds with a tone too whiny to be taken seriously, too breathy to be upset.

Wade backs off, palms up and cheeks wrinkled with a grin, and he’s so caught up in how gorgeous his partner looks that he’s nearly forgotten that they’re in the middle of a busy street, out of costume and minutes away from finding an apartment that they’ll maybe just _live together in._

With an exasperated groan, Peter regains his composure and stomps towards Wade. Footsteps exaggerated and pout set dramatically, he grabs at Wade’s empty hand. There’s no resistance on Wade’s end- he holds Peter just as devoutly as Peter holds him, and if they’d been in their suits, posing as their masked alter-egos, the sight would be something camera-worthy, something the oblivious body of people that bustle past would turn and gawk at.

But right now they’re Peter Parker and Wade Wilson, a tired graduate student and a hulk of a man with an unfortunate skin condition, and they draw no more attention than anyone else on these streets, the ones they protect on a nightly basis. Though not a new experience, it’s refreshing to the both of them, energizing in the way that saving the world won’t ever be.

Peter thinks he might be able to live his life like this forever, under the cover of normality. A life with his partner, with fights that don’t involve ultra-durable women or freaky magic men, with peaceful domesticity, with consistency and certainty and a home that isn’t threatened by extraterrestrial beings more often than not.

Wade’s beliefs are more reserved, his caution bred from a world that’s abused him time and time again, forced him to kneel only to stand once more, bandaged his wrists only to slit his neck. Yet, Peter is his end and his beginning, his everything in between, and he’ll try anything if it might mean making this gem of a man happy, if it might mean spending their remaining eternity united in every way that counts. 

It’s simple, even if it’s not.

“You ready?” Peter asks, adjusting the backpack on his shoulder. He’s especially pale beneath this light, a gleaming egret in the nest of the bleak city- he doesn’t belong here, not really, and there’s a part of Wade that wants to steal him away, bring him to an open field and set him free.

Instead, Wade swallows around words caught in his throat and nods. Peter’s responding smile is wide and free, the sparkling ruby amidst his sweeping features, the sheer _joy_ and _excitement_ stamped across his cheeks too loud and too certain for even Wade to doubt.

A pigeon lands next to them, cocks its head, flies away. “Then uh-” Peter licks his lips, “Let’s go find us an apartment, huh?”

“Yeah,” Is all Wade can muster, shy and subdued in volume.

The two men take off down the sidewalk, Peter a step ahead, Wade floating behind. Their hands keep them tethered, fingers loosely woven, palms brushing warmly. Wade watches the smaller body ahead of him, homing in on every familiar curve and edge.

In a city that exists only between the lineations of a grid, between shades of greys and blacks, Peter is a camber of a person, larger than life, than the buildings that cage his boisterous existence. He’s both the sun and the surfaces that reflect, a being of refraction, of transformation- he’s a winding trail in a chokehold of straight lines and hard steel, a hazel-eyed feline in a sward of droning rodents. He’s frantic and anxious and stern, overbeating and morally- _stuck-the-fuck-up,_ small and brilliant and _beautiful_.

Peter is the melodic euphony to Wade’s cymbal-crash of a cacophony, the remedy to the ache of his perpetual existence, his beauty and his beholder.

There’s not a thing in the world that Wade would turn away for.

 

**Author's Note:**

> hey!
> 
> so this is a repost, because I posted this initially under the guise of a chaptered-work, but I decided against posting each part of that work together and will now just be posting them individually .. anyways, if you've already read this, I apologize, something new is coming soon, and if not, be sure to leave some love!!
> 
> i hope you enjoyed, and stay tuned for some more stuff! also! check me out on tumblr [@thespideyboy](https://thespideyboy.tumblr.com) for more spideypool content!!
> 
> catch y'all later !!


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